The Spectator, Volume 2. eBook

As I have often declared, that I have nothing more
at heart than the Honour of my dear Country-Women,
I would beg them to consider, whenever their Resolutions
begin to fail them, that there are but one and thirty
Days of this soft Season, and that if they can but
weather out this one Month, the rest of the Year will
be easy to them. As for that Part of the Fair-Sex
who stay in Town, I would advise them to be particularly
cautious how they give themselves up to their most
innocent Entertainments. If they cannot forbear
the Play-house, I would recommend Tragedy to them,
rather than Comedy; and should think the Puppet-show
much safer for them than the Opera, all the while the
Sun is in Gemini.

The Reader will observe, that this Paper is written
for the use of those Ladies who think it worth while
to war against Nature in the Cause of Honour.
As for that abandon’d Crew, who do not think
Virtue worth contending for, but give up their Reputation
at the first Summons, such Warnings and Premonitions
are thrown away upon them. A Prostitute is the
same easy Creature in all Months of the Year, and makes
no difference between May and December.

X.

[Footnote 1: [is] and in first Reprint.]

[Footnote 2: This quotation is made up of two
passages in Dryden’s version of Chaucer’s
Knights Tale, Palamon and Arcite. The first four
lines are from Bk. ii. 11. 663-666, the other four
lines are from Bk. i. 11. 176-179.]

There are such wild Inconsistencies in the Thoughts
of a Man in love, that I have often reflected there
can be no reason for allowing him more Liberty than
others possessed with Frenzy, but that his Distemper
has no Malevolence in it to any Mortal. That
Devotion to his Mistress kindles in his Mind a general
Tenderness, which exerts it self towards every Object
as well as his Fair-one. When this Passion is
represented by Writers, it is common with them to
endeavour at certain Quaintnesses and Turns of Imagination,
which are apparently the Work of a Mind at ease; but
the Men of true Taste can easily distinguish the Exertion
of a Mind which overflows with tender Sentiments,
and the Labour of one which is only describing Distress.
In Performances of this kind, the most absurd of all
things is to be witty; every Sentiment must grow out
of the Occasion, and be suitable to the Circumstances
of the Character. Where this Rule is transgressed,
the humble Servant, in all the fine things he says,
is but shewing his Mistress how well he can dress,
instead of saying how well he loves. Lace and
Drapery is as much a Man, as Wit and Turn is Passion.